Page 42 of His Trick

I blinked, trying to snap myself out of it. When I turned back around, I could see her fully. Her body was beautiful. Naked and open and…

No. What the fuck. Get a grip, Shiloh.

“I-I don’t know how, lady. What the…what is this?”

She struggled. Her dark hair glistened with blood. She was in bad shape. The wounds on her body looked infected beyond belief, and her eyes didn’t have a normal color to them. Onewas red and blown. And the other couldn’t look at anything correctly. She was helpless in here.

My father’s words echoed in my mind, and I shook my head.

‘You only have to put it out of its misery.’

No…

“What happened to you, lady?” I said, looking around at the massacre of organs on the ground for something to free her bindings. As if a beacon from a cosmic figure, the light shone onto a knife wedged into the shed’s wall.

I pulled it free, staring at the familiar markings, and losing my ability to breathe. This was my hunting knife—the one I always use to eviscerate the game. I had looked everywhere for it this morning when Dad said we were going hunting. I had to use Dad’s for the boar I’d downed earlier. I’d had this knife since I was a little boy. It was a gift from my mom, and had my name carved into the metal on the hilt. The letters shone from the light, and I swallowed.

Why the hell was it here?

‘You only have to put it out of its misery.’

“Hey. Please. Help.”

I snapped out of my thoughts and moved forward to reach for the woman. She was unable to move at all. Her body looked like a broken doll, and it made me sick to think that she was beautiful, but I did. I even tried to hide my stupid boner as I gripped the rope.

“Ow!” I hissed, jumping back and looking at my hands.

There were angry red marks where I’d touched the rope. Sizzling like acid had eroded my skin. The ropes killed me to touch, and I could only imagine how bad it hurt her to be wrapped in them naked. Beautiful or not, she was in pain.

Pain looked peaceful. Her face was contorted like a porn actress’s, and the soft whimpers that left her mouth sounded the same, too.

Was pleasure pain too?

“Kid. Please. Before…he comes back.”

I furrowed my brow, trying to stick the knife under the rope without touching the soaked rope.

“Who?”

I didn’t want to hear her say it. I didn’t want to have to accept that this wasn’t a random coincidence, and my father really had done this to a woman.

“Edmund Anderson. He’s a monster. All those girls. He killed them all. Please. You have to…help me. I can’t be gutted like the others. Call nine-one-one. Please.”

Edmund Anderson. My best friend. My father. A monster?

When she whimpered and began wiggling, I pulled out my phone and dialed the numbers. I felt like a traitor. I had to get Dad to leave. He couldn’t be here when they came to get this lady.

“Emergency. What’s your location?”

The woman heard the dispatcher and started screaming like a banshee. I dropped the knife and my phone, smashing my hands over my ears, trying to back away from her screams. She was fighting the rope, breaking free from the few bands I had cut, but her skin corroded as it brushed against them, leaving her looking like a melting wax figure.

I backed away, the intensity of the screams painful and terrifying. I wanted her to stop. She wasn’t beautiful anymore, just loud and broken…angry and desperate.

I didn’t see it coming. I was too distracted by the wailing female. It was too late. A bullet blew through my side, landing in the woman and exploding her like a balloon of noodles.

“Ah!” I screamed, the pain in my side as agonizing as the ringing in my head. My father was here. I could see that he was speaking to me, but the words were muffled, stunted by my loss of hearing and the blinding pain of my bleeding torso.

“Dad…Why?”